I'd Like to Meet His Tailor
by Harpokrates
Summary: Dracula's castle is a castle of worlds, and doors, and sometimes strangers


The castle was a creature of chaos, Alucard reflected as he glanced around the room he'd stepped into.

It was a narrow spire, erupting into the sky. Even he couldn't see the ceiling; he half expected it was open sky at the top. The room itself was elegant enough, like everything else in his father's castle, but he could see the cracks in the veneer. Perhaps it was his short foray into the human world that gave him an appreciation for architecture, but this room would crumble to rubble the second his father's power was sealed away.

Alucard stepped fully into the room, letting the door slam shut behind him. His gaze flicked back towards it as it sealed itself shut, but that was to be expected. The castle liked him enough to give him respite—a hiding place in the sanctuaries to tend to his hurts—but it was still his father's . He'd only spent a short time under his father's care, but eighteen years with Dracula was more than enough to get a measure on the man.

He squinted upwards, then launched himself towards the next floor. He caught the railing and dug his heel into the marble, then sprung up another dozen floors. The distance upwards didn't clear itself. Alucard stifled a groan. He jumped twice more and barely landed on the railing. A glance down confirmed that he was around two hundred floors up, but he pulled away before the vertigo started affecting him. The floor was much the same as the others he'd passed: open in the center, with a narrow hall running the diameter of the opening. There was a single door midway around the circle. Alucard eyed it for a second before opening it. He saw three misshapen, shambling monsters before he slammed the door shut. Someone who didn't have preternatural strength and transient wings would likely have to fight whatever these rooms contained in order to progress.

He turned and leapt off the balcony, hurling himself up into the air. The air rushed across his face, ripping his hair across his face. He hung onto the railing and raked it back with his free hand, tucking under the neck of his cape.

Alucard breathed out and jumped again, then again, and again and again. His hand slipped of the railing, and he scrambled to jump, leaping again off the suddenly solid air and clinging to the railing. He heaved himself over the railing and slumped to the floor, gasping for air.

He rolled over onto his back and focused on breathing for a few seconds. His sword was digging into his back, but if he moved, he'd probably pass out.

He was not the same Alucard who watched Trevor Belmont slay Dracula. The years spent in his Sleeping Beauty act had rendered him weak, his magic drained away to keep him alive during hibernation. Vampires could slumber for eternity in a coffin of grave dirt, but humans needed food and water.

Alucard wheezed for a moment, then pushed himself up to lean against the wall. He fumbled at his belt for a vial of elixir and threw it to the back of his mouth with a grimace. It burned down his throat and into his stomach, curling with heat. He fought to keep from retching, letting it settle in him. After a long moment, the feeling subsided and he exhaled, feeling the strength return to his heavy limbs. He flicked the empty bottle over the railing.

Twenty-five seconds later, he heard the distant shatter of glass against marble.

He summoned the Bat, his most pliable and least mouthy familiar.

"Fly up," he instructed it, "as far as you can."

The Bat shrieked in response and swooped into the air. Alucard watched it go, feeling the ethereal tether between them stretch. He shook off the sensation.

He settled back and considered the foolishness of sleeping here. He hadn't seen any monsters in the tower itself, but that didn't mean any wouldn't spawn. Monsters didn't generally have the wherewithal, or perhaps the ability, to open doors, but that didn't mean it couldn't happen. Perhaps the castle would take mercy and give him a chapel in one of these rooms.

Alucard staggered to his feet, catching the railing when his vision went blurry. Was this how humans felt? How awful.

He opened the door, hoping for a sanctuary and expecting monsters.

He came face to face with a man.

"Oh goddamnit."

Alucard's eyes crossed as he stared at the gun barrel pressed against his forehead. Between heartbeats, he saw the man's finger curl around the trigger.

The gun fired in a deafening bang.

"What the hell?" The man coughed as he waved away the smoke in front of his face. The cloud of mist wafted away, down to the previous floor.

Alucard coalesced out of the mist and grabbed onto the railing, flipping upwards into the man's face. He crumpled to the ground in a flurry of red leather, but snatched Alucard's ankle out of the air and slammed him into the wall.

Alucard rolled away before the man's foot could turn his head into a smear on the stone and landed on his feet, drawing his sword.

"Alright, yeah," the man dusted his shoulders off and rolled his head. "Enough of the kid games."

He reached over his shoulder and drew a massive broadsword, vicious and wicked and decorated tastelessly with skulls.

He grinned. "En garde."

Alucard watched him warily, then slowly reached up and undid the clasp of his cloak. It fluttered to the ground. The man's eyes were wide, showing slivers of white around his stark ice irises.

One second. Two.

Alucard threw his sword at the man, drawing his second and bringing it up just in time to block the man's blow.

"You missed." The man said, bearing his weight down on the blade. Alucard's eyes twitched to his right.

The man spun, catching the blade before it could bisect him and throwing it to his left, off the balcony. Alucard took advantage of his distraction and kicked his legs out from under him.

Alucard flipped backwards, and caught the second Rune blade as it returned to his hand.

The man jumped to his feet, brandishing his sword.

"Okay, you got tricks." The man nodded,then swept forward into a lunge. Alucard parried and ducked around him. The man swung the sword around in an upwards arc. Alucard threw both swords behind him and vanished into mist. The man slashed again at the mist before blocking one of the blades. The other sliced into his arm. Alucard reformed behind him and caught the sword, flicking the blood off of it.

He glanced at it, and his second blade clattered against the ground before flying into his waiting hand.

The man watched him warily, patting at his arm for the wound.

Dracula's monsters didn't speak. His father could never stand chatter or backtalk. His guests and allies spoke, but this man was too quippy and lively for his father to willingly associate with. He could fight, certainly, but he was a far cry from the dignity of Olrox or Carmilla.

The only other beings that came to Dracula's castle were…

"Are you a Belmont?" Alucard asked quietly.

"I'm from Queens." The man corrected. "You ever been to New York?"

Alucard didn't get a chance to ask what New York was before the man swept the blade up at him, knocking one of his swords over the railing. Alucard clenched his fist for it, but felt the air rush out of him like he'd been punched. Eyes wide, he vanished his familiar away before it accidentally drained him of the last of his magic and killed him.

The man came at him relentlessly, all flashing steel and gleaming eyes. Alucard tried to fend him off, but between his missing sword and his exhaustion, he couldn't keep up.

The man's attacks forced him to the ground and he drew his arm back for a final blow. Alucard caught the blade on his midthrust, nudging it somewhere less lethal. His sword squelched against flesh, but he barely noticed for the pain in his shoulder as the man's broadsword pinned it to the floor. The man blinked, then gurgled and looked down at the sword in his chest. He sagged forwards, sliding down the sword. Alucard grunted and pushed him off to the side, grimacing as the movement jostled his shoulder.

He grasped at the sword, holding back the pained noises he desperately wanted to make. After a few, long, painful seconds, he managed to wrench the blade from the floor, and then his arm.

Alucard rolled over, clutching his arm and trying not to scream. He used what little magic remained to summon the Fairy. She burst to life in a shower of glitter, then alighted on his side.

"Arm," he rasped, "heal."

She huffed, then tapped his shoulder with her heels. He gasped as the rent flesh reformed itself, then banished the Fairy back to nothingness.

Alucard pushed himself to his feet and summoned the sword the man had thrown over the balcony. The other…

Alucard looked at the man.

He hated killing humans. Even in the depths of his father's madness, when he was staking Ottomans in the front yard, Alucard had never joined him in his revels. Dracula took advantage of his son's distaste, and invited covens to practice in his castle, as a line of defense. Alucard preferred to frighten them away—an easy task for a man who could turn into a wolf—but it didn't always work.

The man was young, too, despite his white hair. He was wearing red, which disguised how much blood he had lost.

Alucard grimaced and stiffly bent over to retrieve his cape, then draped it over the man. He turned to launch himself off the railing to the next level.

"That's cheating, man."

Alucard fumbled and flipped himself over the railing, barely catching himself before he ended up on the floor. That would be funny to see: his father and Death standing over his flattened corpse, wondering what went wrong.

"Seriously," the man said, putting aside Alucard's cloak, "I've been busting my balls fighting these devils, and you just jumped?"

"You—"

"I'm more pissed I didn't think of it." The man pushed himself to his feet, the Rune blade sticking grotesquely out of his back. Alucard managed to haul himself over the railing and barely kept on his feet.

"You alright, man?" The man raised an eyebrow at him.

"How—" Alucard cut himself off. This man was something else. A vampire, or even a halfling like him, could survive many things, but impalement wasn't one of them. A curse for his father's transgressions, perhaps.

The man glanced down at his chest, looking at the sword like he'd forgotten it was there. "Oh, yeah. You want this back?"

Before Alucard could tell him to keep it, he grabbed the thing by the hilt and yanked it out of his chest. He closed his eyes before he could see the man's blood spray across the room. There was a squelch, and Alucard opened his eyes in time to see the sword land by his feet.

"Scared of blood? You picked the wrong job."

Alucard picked up the sword and tucked it away in the sheath at his hip.

"Not much of a talker, are you?" The man brushed his hair away from his face, then held out his hand. "I'm Dante."

Alucard stared blankly at it. "Alucard." He replied eventually. He hooked the man's sword with his boot and kicked it towards him. The man, Dante caught in one hand and twirled it neatly to tuck it away on his back.

"So what brings you here, Al? Aside from stabbing me." Dante favored him with a wink. "Didn't even buy me dinner first."

Alucard stared at him.

"Okayyy." He looked off and rubbed his head. "Hey, I came here through some shit warehouse on Jersey. Any chance you could point me back that way?"

"The castle," Alucard began, not bothering to mention that he had no idea what Jersey was, let alone where it might be, "makes itself into a maze. The more difficult it is to get somewhere, the closer to your goal it is."

"Huh." Dante put his hands on his hips and leaned out over the railing, peering up into the distance. "How far do you think that is?"

"We're about three kilos up."

"What's that in miles?"

"About two."

"Two more to go, then?"

Alucard shrugged.

"Well," the man wiped at his nose, smearing blood across his face, "I just fought some big ugly fucker—bigger and uglier, I mean. So, I figure I'm about halfway there. That's usually how these things go."

He noticed Alucard staring at him, agape. "What?"

Alucard didn't feel like chiding a stranger on his language, but that didn't mean it didn't bristle him.

"Nothing. I'm going now."

"Wait!" Dante shouted, but Alucard was already three floors up. He landed poorly, and it was a testament to his poor mood that he jumped again rather than using his head and resting for a moment. He caught himself,but only barely, and it pulled open the wound in his chest.

Alucard sagged against the wall, catching his breath. There was another bottle of elixir in his pocket, but he was saving it for more dire circumstances—say another stranger with a sword tried to kill him. There were a lot of those in the castle, from the Belmont woman to the shades of his friends, and even himself.

He checked the door on this floor and only found more monsters. Sighing, he glanced over the railing.

"Hey! Jackass!"

Alucard groaned.

Dante clambered over the rail, then pulled a gun on Alucard. Alucard stared at it, unperturbed.

"What?"

"Don't run out in the middle of conversations; it's rude. Now," he slid the gun back into it's holster on the side of his leg, "I was asking you a question."

"I know. I wasn't answering it."

Dante blinked. "Christ."

"Don't take the Lord's name in vain."

"Okay, Jesùs. Happy?" Dante crossed his arms. "What do you know about this castle? Who's in charge here? Mundus? Arkham? The Order?"

"I know none of these. Dracula rules this castle."

"Dracula?" Dante stared at him. "Like, 'I vhant to suck your vlood'. Stakes and gibbering henchmen?"

"What kind of accent was that? Was that supposed to be Romanian? That's downright offensive."

"You argue worse than Lady." Dante rubbed his head. "So Dracula is here? What, he a vampire too?"

Alucard inclined his head. "You don't know this?"

"Look, pal," Dante held up his hands, "I know demons. I leave the other crap to the professionals. But, hey, I'll dial up Van Helsing if you like."

He smiled like it was supposed to be a joke. Alucard stared silently at him.

"Ah, you're serious, aren't you?"

"Yes."

"Well shit." Dante let out a low whistle. There was a distant rumble. He straightened. "Did you hear that?"

Alucard nodded slowly.

"I've never been in a vampire's castle," Dante drew his sword and glanced upwards cautiously, "but I've been in enough castles to know that isn't a good noise."

"Agreed," Alucard settled his hand over his sword. His eyes widened. "Move!"

He grabbed Dante and tossed him over the railing, jumping after him. A massive hand shot out of the wall where they had been standing, followed by a massive shaggy head. Alucard twisted in midair to stare at it, grimacing. Adramelech. Wonderful.

Dante was tumbling head over heels. Alucard snatched him around the chest and forced his ethereal wings to manifest and keep them both from becoming one with the marble.

Alucard landed gracefully on his heels, Dante dangling upside down in his arms.

"Not that I don't appreciate it," he said, muffled, "but can you please fuckin' drop me."

"Language." Alucard chided, before dropping Dante in the rubble.

He pushes himself to his feet, and they covered their faces as the goat demon finally pulled it's way free of it's chains and toppled gracelessly to the ground. It raised it's great horned head and growled.

"Hey," Dante said, wiping his lip, "what say we put aside our differences and handle kinky here?"

"I've worked with more disagreeable people." Alucard concluded, drawing his sword and manifesting his sword summon with a gesture.

"Me too, buddy."

They charged.

* * *

The title is from Werewolf of London.

It's been ages. Hi everyone, please enjoy a pointless fight scene!

Adramelech is from Circle of the Moon.

Rune swords are the best. I grinded for two hours to get a pair of them.

As always, please leave a comment, or hit me up at .com


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